“Interesting,” she says, opening a notebook and jotting something down. “I think you are right. Garrett operates at a higher frequency than most people. You felt that. He has a knack for attracting the tools necessary for him to succeed. It might just be that he needs you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, doubt is what we’re here to work on.” She smiles.

Still skeptical, I shake my head.

“Maybe it wasn’t the ‘old you’ you were glimpsing, but the ‘new you.’ The confident you,” she continues. “The you who is so steadfast in your calling to reveal and preserve what you know is truth you’ll do whatever it takes. When you get into the field, it will be necessary for you to deceive others—to make them believe you’re one of them—and you can’t do that until you believe in yourself—until you know that what you stand for is right and good. Until you trust your instincts.”

“It sounds impossible.” I squint into the last of the golden light glinting off the river.

“It’s not. I promise.” Rising, she draws the curtains against the setting sun. “Let’s work on forgiving who you were raised to be. It’s okay to admit you come from a less-informed place. You’re growing and learning. It’s a process. Stop beating yourself up. Are you willing to try something with me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Go for it, then.” I shrug.

She rejoins me on the couch. “Close your eyes and think of a time you were unfair to someone. Start with something insignificant. You can work your way up to the bigger things.”

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I remember a day on the Boulevard. Lily and I walk up to our bistro table, where a skinny freshman girl with bad skin is sitting alone, eating a sandwich. She emanates a loneliness so deep my chest aches. Remembering nights as a kid when I was left at home with nannies and robots while my parents were vacationing for weeks on end—when I felt invisible and unwanted—I want to be kind to her. But Lily is watching, and I need to prove myself. Eat or be eaten.

“You’re in my seat,” I say, injecting ice into my voice.

The girl looks up. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re in my seat. This is our table. You can’t sit here.” My hands tremble, but I persist.

“It’s a free world.” She tries to look tough, but her lips wobble. My heart screams for me to end its aching, for an act of kindness, but I silence it.

“Do you know who we are?” Lil asks, having no time for someone who doesn’t instantly acknowledge her clout. “You’re about to find out.” Deena, Kylie, and Jaxon file in behind us, and fear creeps into the girl’s eyes. Everyone on the Boulevard is watching.

“This is our table,” Deena says. “You need to leave.”

The girl still refuses to budge—whether it’s out of pride or fear, I don’t know. But Jax makes the next move, sitting next to her, his thigh touching hers.